Chapter 10 #4
Though his head is telling him Draven’s right, Finlay’s stubborn pride takes over, and he feels the words bubbling in his throat, his defensive nature forcing them from his tongue as if blown away on a gust of strong wind.
“You act as though you and I aren’t on equal footing.
You could try to rip my throat out, but perhaps you’ve forgotten that my magic and combat abilities rival your own, brother. ”
Draven’s eyes flicker with darkness. “Would you like to make a wager on that?”
Finlay steps forward, opening his mouth, but the sound of Josiah’s voice has Finlay snapping his mouth shut, his jaw clenching with frustration. He turns away from Draven, instead choosing to give Josiah his full attention.
“It has been decided. Ms. Brooksley,” he says, his gaze roving to her.
“Your aggregate has been chosen. After the incredible display you and Captain Fjolla just shared, you will join Skyborne, where you will continue to work with him to see if you can reach a level of magical power allowing you to nullify his magic completely.” Josiah turns his keen-eyed stare onto Finlay.
“Captain Fjolla, the three of us request you continue working with her personally, pushing her magic to its limits safely. We have a rare opportunity here with Ms. Brooksley, and if we can hone her nullifying magic to its full potential, we may find ourselves at a considerable advantage against the Abdites, should they attack again.”
At the mention of the Abdites, the room erupts in whispers.
Master Cahlmon wastes no time silencing them.
“If you are meant to be in my class at this present moment, remain in your seats and we will begin shortly. If you are not, you have every bit of information we can offer at this time, and so you are dismissed from this room. Please get out immediately.” Without so much as another word, he turns his back on those watching in their seats, joining Master Strithmore, Josiah, and Tynan in their forming circle.
Finlay returns his attention to Draven, who remains inches from his face. He looks as though he’s going to say something else, but ultimately, he clenches down on his jaw and jerks his chin away from Finlay, as if he’d been slapped by him.
Honestly, that perhaps hurts Finlay more than anything Draven could have possibly said.
Draven storms off without so much as another word.
He approaches Rhea, and the moment he nears her, Finlay watches as the rage and all the venomous hatred she carried in her eyes fades away.
Her entire expression slackens, her eyes rounding, and her bottom lip quivers as Draven gets closer.
He stills at the sight, scanning Rhea with softened eyes, his mouth tightening at all the marks Finlay left on her body.
Draven reaches for Rhea and tugs her into his chest, his arms practically swallowing her as he wraps them around her.
He plants a kiss to the top of her head, squeezing her tightly.
“Did it make you feel good?” Kiran asks softly, continuing to watch Draven and Rhea, his words coated in an ice as cold as Finlay’s.
Feeling suddenly more exhausted than he has in a long time, Finlay replies, “Did what make me feel good?”
“Acting just like your father. Performing in a way that would have made Audwin Fjolla proud. Pushing the boundaries of necessity until they bled into cruelty.” Kiran still doesn’t look at him. “In that moment, you were everything your father hoped you could be.”
He does not say it as a compliment.
The words are like a dagger to his heart—though he will never show it. “That’s not fair,” Finlay counters. “You know what my father might have done if Tynan—or anyone else for that matter—told him Rhea could nullify my magic.”
“And why does it still matter so much to you? We’re not teenagers anymore, Fin.
” For the first time in years, Kiran’s voice turns slightly pleading.
Like what just happened is his final straw.
He looks at Finlay, the lines encasing his normally bright eyes filled with pain.
“Give up trying to please your father. Stop with this pretentious, noble bullshit. You look down your nose at everyone and everything—spit on those you deem lesser in his name. And for what? Audwin’s cruel affections? You don’t need him. You have us.”
Finlay clenches down on his jaw. “I’m trying to regain my honor.
Trying to be a man worthy of his title. Worthy of the Fjolla name.
Something you will never understand, Prince of Flames.
” Finlay spews Kiran’s nickname at him with an air of disgust. “You get to float through life without a care in the world, fucking and drinking and laughing. I am not so fortunate to be born into such a forgiving House.”
Kiran watches Finlay for a long, silent moment. “If you keep walking down this path, you are going to tread too far, turning around one day and realizing you’ve stumbled into a place where no one will follow you.”
Finlay remains silent, and Kiran takes that as his cue to walk away, striding toward Draven and Rhea.
Once Rhea spots him, her face brightens, and those distinctly blue eyes widen with joy.
She pulls away from Draven and practically flings herself into Kiran’s arms. When she pulls back, he watches as laughter bubbles over her lips and Kiran’s signature grin returns.
They start chatting, and Finlay takes that as his cue to excuse himself.
As he strides out of the corridor—as he wanders back to his aggregate’s wing alone—he curses the Masters for placing Rhea in his aggregate. For asking him to continue working with her to enhance her magic. Curses the way that girl has always put a wedge between him and his brothers.
Really, he just curses her and everything she represents.
Everything she forces Finlay to remember.